


Alone Together

by RueRambunctious



Category: X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Ableist Language, Acceptance, Derogatory Language, F/F, Foreign Language, Language, Language Barrier, M/M, Mutant Politics, Mutants, Race, Revolution, Slow Burn, Trust Issues, War Era, conversion camp
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-28
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2018-11-20 09:03:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11332632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RueRambunctious/pseuds/RueRambunctious
Summary: Charles and Erik are trying to piece something together. A truce; a relationship; something.Not all of their peers are sold on the idea.The five newest young mutants in Charles' care have come from another disturbing 'conversion camp' and tending to their care might teach the couple more than they expected about the ideals they hold.





	1. Chapter 1

Erik gives Charles a look when the bedroom door is knocked insistently. Sighing, Charles waves Erik a little further away and massages his temples as he calls out a not entirely welcoming, “Come in!”

“I need to talk to you,” Beast declares with less preamble than usual. Erik returns Beast's mistrustful look with a sulky one and Charles sighs.

“The new children?” Charles supposes.

“They're hardly children-” Erik begins, but Charles stops him with a tired look.

“The poorliest one in particular, although we certainly aren't having an easy time with any of them,” Beast states.

Charles frowns. “Is he still-”

“Vomiting and blacking out, yes, and he still won't let any of us near him; we still can't sedate him, and he hasn't ingested anything in at least five days,” Beast supplies. “I'm concerned.”

Charles grimaces. “I'm coming, Hank.”

“And how are you magically going to fix this one if you still can't get inside his head?” Erik asks.

“You're going to go after the iron in his blood stream and see if weakening him that way gets the boy's shields down,” Charles states grimly. Beast looks around quickly, but surprises Erik by nodding.

“Since when does that fit your moral code?” Erik protests, but he quickly stands and follows the others out the door.

“Since we couldn't get near him two days ago when his ears started leaking,” Beast says starkly.

“By this point either his mutation's going to save him or he's brain dead,” Erik points out. “You can't save everyone.”

“And a broken mind is worthless, but a broken body isn't?” Charles asks sharply.

“You shouldn't even need that explained,” Erik retorts.

“So,” Beast interrupts. “Update on the others?”

The couple sigh. “Yes,” says Charles. “Please, go on.”

“The two sisters I'm mostly worried about next will at least consent to eat. They've let me tend to their immediate breakages but are fussy about letting me check their healing. They're not talking to any of us, and barely speaking to each other, although apparently they've been referring to the third girl as 'gryaznaya krov', which...”

“Means 'dirty blood',” Erik supplies.

Beast puffs out his cheeks, looking strained, before blowing through his lips. “Quite.”

“But all five of them are mutants,” Charles says softly.

“Yes, Charles, because all mutants get along,” Erik disparages without much malice. “ _People_ don't get along.”

“They're children,” Charles reasserts.

“They're all in their late teens,” Erik reminds him. “And you found them all in a conversion camp.”

“So they need each other,” Charles says.

“So they've probably been pitted against each other. You think two Russians, a Jew and a Polish girl don't have anything they could find to resent each other about?”

“They're a lot younger than us,” Charles presses.

“They're calling the Pole _gryaznaya krov_ ,” Erik says grimly.

Beast gives the pair an uneasy look then pushes open the door to where the first of the teenagers is being held.

Erik tenses at the sight. He hasn't bothered to see the boy before, so the youth's appearance makes him uneasy. The boy isn't exactly emaciated, but Erik quickly remembers that this one hasn't taken any food since he arrived here, and that was five days ago. It's entirely unclear whether any of the young mutants were being regularly fed before then.

Unusually, the boy is conscious enough to have curled into the recovery position. He rises to his elbows slowly and gives the three men a distinctly distrustful look.

“ _Um Gotteswillen_ ,” Erik breathes. The boy's forearms are completely yellow and green, but not from any mutation. Those are entire bruises. [“For God's sake.”]

The others turn to shush Erik, but the boy's expression flickers. “ _Deutsch.”_ He concentrates. “ _Wo ist… Nein._ Wo sind _die anderen_?” [“German. Where is… No… _Where are_ the others?”]

Erik steps past the others and sits near the teenager. “ _Sie sind hier. Unverletzt._ ” [They are here. Unharmed.”] 

“' _Unverletzt_ ',” the bruised mutant repeats slowly. “ _Sicher?_ ” [“Unharmed. For sure?”] 

Erik tries to make his face look something like reassuring. “ _Ja_.” [“Yes.”] 

The younger man nods as though Erik is actually capable of appearing thus. 

The man looks around at Beast and Charles. “ _Sie wollen helfen. Du bist sehr krank.”_ [“They want to help. You are very sick.”] 

The young man gives a weak but derisive chuckle. “ _Est ist ein bisschen ein Gehirn rasselnd. Ich bin wunderbar._ ” [“It's a bit of a brain rattling. I'm wonderful.”] 

Erik cannot help but snort darkly. “ _Du bist verrückt wenn du das denkst, mein Freund._ ” [“You're delusional if you think that, my friend.”] 

The young mutant taps his forehead gingerly. “ _Starkes Zeug_.” [“Strong stuff.”] 

“ _Der blaue ist ein Arzt. Wenigstens lass ihn dir helfen_ ,” Erik states. [“The blue one is a doctor. At least let him help you.”] 

“ _Nein danke_ ,” the bruised boy mutters. [“No ta.”] 

“ _Was ist mit Essen dann?_ ” Erik suggests patiently. “ _Du hast nicht gegessen… in Tagen._ ” [“What about food then? You haven't eaten… in days.”] 

The young mutant's face concedes slowly. “ _Wasser. Bitte._ ” [“Water. Please.”] 

Erik nods and turns over his shoulder to Beast. “He's refusing to consent to treatment but he's willing to accept water.” 

“He's got the mother of all concussions and needs a saline drip at the very least,” Beast protests, but he goes off quickly for water. 

Erik tries to impart this to the teen, but the younger mutant grimaces in incomprehension. Erik points to the crook of his elbow. “ _Der Infusionsapparat? Mit die Kochsalzlösung._ ” [“The infusion apparatus? With the saline solution.”] 

“ _Salz?_ ,” the young man repeats in understanding. “Nein. _Keine Nadeln._ ” [“Salt? _No._ No needles.”] 

“ _Niemand hier wird dich verletzen_ ,” Erik attempts to reassure. [“No one here will hurt you.”] 

The younger mutant gives him a disappointingly mistrustful look. “ _Keine Nadeln. Verdammte Amerikaner._ ” [“No needles. Damned Americans.”] 

Erik's lips twitch. “ _Charles ist Britisch. Und Hank… das Blaue. _” [“Charles is British. And Hank… The blue one.”]__

____

____

The teenager's face crinkles. “ _Ich mag ihn nicht. Jeder von ihnen_.” [“I don't like him. Either of them.”] 

Erik chortles and casts a quick glance at Charles, who seems to have a rudimentary understanding of the conversation. “ _Warum nicht_?” the German asks. ["Why not?”] 

The young mutant frowns. “ _Er ist..._ ” He flounders for a moment then squeezes his nose. “... _Naseweis_?” [He is… Nosy?”]

Erik has to swiftly bite his knuckle to hold back a very unkind laugh. “ _Er kann nicht helfen, dass ich Angst habe_ ,” the man concedes with a playful smile towards Charles. [“He cannot help that, I'm afraid.”] Erik knows the other man struggles to get a read on anyone around this boy, and the blatant look on Charles' face says I'm-trying-so-hard-to-be-patient-luv-but-I-think-I-might-hit-you-later. 

The concussed mutant observes the trust between the pair and rolls his eyes. “People cannot be trusted,” he says in oddly accented English. 

“Humans,” corrects Erik. “We're all mutants here.” 

Charles gives him a look, but the teen merely laughs bitterly. 

“Mutants aren't _safe_ ,” the bruised mutant disparages. 


	2. Chapter 2

Erik cannot help but grin at Charles' frustrated face. “What's that grump for?”

Charles widens his eyes momentarily at him then sighs and rubs his forehead. “I can't find anything on our new… intake. That new boy has a blanket over the five of them, sick or not, and there are _zero_ records from the facility about who they are.”

“Maybe they don't _have_ families to be contacted,” Erik reasons soberly.

“We get plenty of outcasts and orphans, Eric. These kids don't trust us enough to tell us who to contact. They're terrified.”

“Yes, well, you'll do your lefty liberal nonsense on them for a bit and they'll thaw to you and you can all play happy families,” Erik says in an underwhelming but genuine attempt to reassure the other man.

Charles blinks flatly and almost resents the smirk that creeps up his face. “You're a monster, Erik.”

“Yes. Your monster,” Erik agrees easily. “This is not news.”

Charles rolls his eyes. “I don't need you to be facetious. I need you to help me figure out how to help them.”

Erik puts a hand on the back of Charles' neck. “You have considered that they vocally don't want your help?”

“And I can hardly just let them fend for themselves with no identification or contacts or clean bills of health,” Charles grumbles softly.

“They're adults,” Erik points out.

“Abused, tortured, young mutant adults,” Charles amends.

“So you can understand their lack of trust,” Eric reasons.

Charles sighs. “Of course, but-”

Eric tugs the other man's ear. Charles looks up, startled. Eric suggests, “The sickest kid, with the hair? He's Scottish. I'll bet you a drink. Get your clever things searching for a Scottish lad born in the last… seventeen? Seven and twenty? years who had a reason to pick up a lot of German. Possibly military. The only one who's told us his name, Remiel, he's an army brat if ever I saw one.”

Charles processes. Nods. “How do you know he's Scottish?”

Eric grins mockingly. “Aw, Charles, is that kid's blanket reaching you all the way up here? You must hate that.”

“It doesn't, actually,” Charles grouches mildly. “I just didn't want to waltz into your head after… well, everything.”

Eric blinks and squeezes the other man's shoulder tightly. “You're always welcome, you fool.”

Charles gives him that soft smile that Eric does not know how to deal with.

“It's the accent,” Eric huffs. “Scots adapt to a German accent very naturally because of the way their language forms. _Loch_ not lake and so on. You can tell a Scot from an Englishman a mile off.”

“He didn't sound Scottish to me,” Charles muses.

“He sounded well-travelled,” Eric pointed out. “Ergo, military.”

“What have I doing without your brain all these years?” Charles teases.

“Your hand, probably,” Eric quips.

Charles snorts, and it evolves into the sort of laughter which relieves some of the past few days' tension, but not all, because few things are that humorous. Eric stares at him. It was a throwaway joke, out of his mouth before he had even really thought about it, but its impact is striking.

Just for a moment, Charles looks at ease.

Then then moment is gone, and Charles' face is twisted again, full of pain and stress and trepidation.

“I always loved your laugh,” Eric says to the room. He pushes away and turns towards the door.

He pauses. He does not have the freedom to roam here.

Eric turns and steps towards the window, looking out and down and frowning. Charles stares at the broader man's tense back. Charles feels woefully inept.

Erik curls his head back a little, feeling the other mutant brush his mind.

'Hello,' Erik thinks. His inner voice is warmer than Charles expected from such tired posture.

Charles closes his eyes and realises he does not know what to think. Sometimes ' _I love you I love you I love you_ ,' reverberates within his skull as constant as Charles' pulse, but that's no good. They're grown men now and the chant does not change a thing.

Except Erik turns as though Charles' thoughts are terribly, tellingly loud. Charles breathes deeply, his fingers tightening on his chair.

“Charles,” Erik sighs. His voice is oddly sympathetic and Charles cannot help but frown with confusion as he looks up into the other mutant's face.

Erik's movements are strong and graceful. Charles feels a tug of something in his naval at the sight.

Erik grips Charles' shoulder and the touch feels warm all the way to the bald mutant's fuzzy head. Ridiculous that it is so hard to think. The sick teen downstairs must-

“Charles,” Erik repeats with odd gentleness.

Charles looks up. He's supposed to be saving Erik's character, but sometimes the bigger man seems like the only constant in a world that shifts like sand over cracked earth.

“I would not be here if it was not mutual,” Erik says slowly.

The days pass in irregular rotations of crisp, passionate moments and long, difficult silences. Charles is glad for the distraction the new intake create. He fears he might live in Erik's brain if not suitably grounded.

Erik's familiar touch on Charles' arms or neck feels like…

Stop it.

Erik gives Charles a look: handsome face pursed and puzzled as though he can _see_ what Charles is thinking and does not quite believe it of him.

Charles looks away and tells the knuckles on his chair that he does not feel flustered. He wills something -anything- to appear as a diversion, and feels both relieved and disappointed when his wish is granted.

Hank looks pleased. “Come see this,” is all he says, then he turns and leads away from Charles' room.

Erik gives Charles a questioning look. ' _May I_?' The man's expression is mocking but the query sincere.

Charles jerks his head and follows Hank. Something feels warm in his chest as Erik walks alongside.

The five new mutants are housed in four rooms. Except… Two of them are missing. The Russian sisters have vacated their room.

Erik gives Beast a bemused look for the way the big man smiles.

Hank leads on to the room Erik and Charles have visited before. Voices drift just barely from the bedroom.

“They'll notice your absence. You should go,” grumbles a low voice.

Erik gives Charles a look as his lips spread into a smirk. Now that it's been pointed out, Charles _can_ hear the Scot in the young mutant's accent.

One of the girls makes a disparaging noise, but audibly stands and steps away from the young man's bed. “Fine,” she mutters in heavily accented English. “We just wanted to know you were alive, Chief.”

“Don't call me that,” Chief warns quickly. He takes a deep breath. His next words sound like a guilty attempt at reassurance. “It takes a lot more than that to kill me, okay?”

“You should remember that your power is not healing,” the other sister says in a crisp voice.

“Likewise, so keep your heads down and stop drawing attention to yourselves,” Chief scolds.

The first young woman makes another sneering noise. “Remy's already fucked it. Told them his name.”

“Remy's not like us,” Chief says in a mild, reasonable voice.

“He's been hurt too; he shouldn't be so stupid!”

“Be kind,” Chief says sedately. “Now fuck off before you get yourselves noticed.”

“Anyone would think you haven't missed us,” a young woman sniffs.

“I'm very glad you're both alive, but I'm also exhausted and sore. Go away so I can sleep,” Chief responds bluntly.

There are footsteps, then the voices stop.

Erik steps towards the door, but Charles puts a restraining hand gently on the other man's arm.

“If you go in there now you'll put his back up,” Charles reasons.

Erik looks down at the fingers still on his sleeve. “He'll talk more if he's panicked.”

“Let them come around in their own time,” Charles says. He takes away his hand.

Erik can still feel the touch. “As you like, Charles,” he says.

Beast ushers them from Chief's door. “That's the first time any of them have used a power since they've gotten here, that I've witnessed.”

“They'd have to have visited Remiel to know he gave a name, no?” Erik says.

Beast shakes his head. “We dormed them together at first; we thought they would be more comfortable together in a strange place.”

“Then they started backbiting,” Eric supplies.

“Yes,” Beast agrees.

“You might be right yet, Charles,” Eric muses.

Charles looks up in confusion. “Hardly unusual. Why this time?”

“They don't trust us,” Erik says. “They don't want to be played against each other.”

“We've done nothing to suggest-”

“What's a very efficient way of getting a mutant to do what you want?” Erik says pointedly.

Charles presses his lips together. “Quite.”


	3. Chapter 3

Chief is sitting up with a thin arm over his midriff. His fingers idly brush his flesh, not in awe of his toned physique, but in dissatisfaction at an apparent loss in muscle tone.

He stops as the adult mutants enter the room.

Eric greets the young man and registers the suspicious way Chief's shoulders tighten even as he responds with a level, “ _Hallo_.” [“Hello.”]

Eric pulls over the unused chair from the writing desk in the corner and settles in it confidently. Charles stops his chair beside him.

“I thought we might speak in English today,” Eric announces.

The young mutant immediately grimaces. “ _Wofür_?” [“What for?”]

Eric thins his lips in an authorative smile. “Because Charles here does not fully understand German, and it is rude.”

“You vould prefer I eensult heem to eez face?” Chief asks challengingly. He uses an accent that was entirely absent during his clandestine conversation with his peers.

Charles smiles indulgently and gestures with his palms outwards. “I have a thick skin, don't worry.”

“You won't insult him at all,” Eric states sternly. Charles touches Eric's wrist gently, but Chief merely rolls his eyes and leans back.

“Vat do you vant?” the young mutant asks.

“Do you know where you are?” Eric asks.

Chief raises a brow. “ _Nei-_ ” He sighs. “ _No_ ,” he corrects himself gruffly.

Eric gives a small nod of acknowledgement to thank the young mutant for trying to be polite. “Charles here runs a school… and a refuge, I suppose, for… young people such as yourself.”

“I haff no need of either,” Chief states bluntly.

“Charles explained to me that you and some others were found in some rather dire circumstances,” Eric continues regardless.

Chief sighs and crosses his arms over his mottled chest. “And vhat does theez haff to do viff you?”

The adults exchange glances. “Eric has similar interests,” Charles explains smoothly. “He's here helping me for the moment.”

“Looks like that Magneto guy on thee eenternet,” Chief mutters dismissively.

Eric freezes momentarily.

“What do you think of him?” Charles asks carefully. “Magneto?”

Chief shrugs. “Von less peerson eeksperimenting on mutant kids,” he declares, giving Charles a pointedly suspicious look.

“Charles is not going to experiment on you,” Eric declares.

Chief curls his lips. “Then vhy can't ve leave?”

“Where would you _go_?” Eric points out.

Chief leans forwards agressively. “ _Anyvhere!_ Avay from heere. Avay from thoze who vould do us harm.”

“No one here means you harm,” Charles insists.

“Vords mean nothing,” Chief states with a frown. He turns away. “Either leet us go or leave us alone. Ve vant nothing from anyvon but our freedom.”

Eric lifts his chin. “You speak for the others?”

Chief looks frustrated. “Who vouldn't vant their freedom after vhat ve haff vent   
through?”

Eric presses his lips together. Charles massages his own temples.

“We've managed to track down your friend Remiel's background,” Charles says quietly. “We're ascertaining whether he has anything to go back to.”

Chief is quiet for a beat. “What's that to me?” he sneers, his accent softening a little. “He eez not my friend.”

Eric and Charles take note and exchange subtle glances. Charles presses, “Although you haven't shared your name with us, we've came up with a few possible leads on who you are. If I had to hazard a guess, I'd say the most likely match was Floyd-”

Chief flinches tellingly. “Vhy – must – you – keep -talking?” he growls. “Please will you just go?”

“We're trying to help you, Floyd,” Charles soothes.

Floyd chuckles and drops his accent. “If you were as good at digging into people as you think you are, you'd have found out why I don't go by that name anymore.”

Charles blinks and leans forward.

Floyd stands. “Get out,” he growls, “before I ask Remy to show you first hand what his mutation can do.”

Eric gets out of his chair and stands defensively at Charles' knee. Eric's strong chest rises and he opens his mouth to retort.

Charles touches Eric gently. “Relax.” He inclines his head towards Floyd. “I can see it would be for the best if we gave each other some time. Please be assured we are trying to help.”

Charles leads Eric towards the door. Floyd says nothing, merely glowering at them from the edge of his bed.

“You're too nice, Charles,” Eric grumbles once in the hallway. “You cannot just let that little brat threaten you...”

“Eric,” the other mutant intones, “we both know that young man has suffered greatly, as have the others. It's only natural that he acts so defensively. You've displayed that trait yourself many a time.”

Eric makes a noise of displeasure but reluctantly nods his acquiescence. After a beat he turns and looks at Charles somberly. “What is Remiel's mutation anyway?”

Charles drops his gaze for a moment. “I haven't seen it first hand, but what we salvaged from the… that _place_ , and various files about him in existence elsewhere… He can hurt people. His mutation causes him to hurt people very, very badly if he uses it.”

“He seemed so...” Eric trails off.

“The videos and transcriptions suggest the boy didn't want to use his abilities. Naturally their impact on others upset him. But various types found out what Remiel could do, and chose to find ways they could use his mutation to their own purposes,” Charles explains softly.

“Which is why we shouldn't let this sort of thing go unpunished,” Eric protests. “If that kid didn't want to use his powers then… We have seen the sort of methods of persuasion he likely faced.”

“Eric… It wasn't just humans who were running the conversion camp,” Charles sighs.

Eric looks disgusted. “Perhaps we should simply wipe us all from this Godforsaken planet and be done with it.”

“Eric.” Charles reaches for the other mutant's hand and squeezes it. “The world is not all evil. There are examples of its good here every day.”

“And look who you let into it,” Eric states quietly. “That Floyd boy threatened you. With harm. _And_ you let me walk about your halls-”

“ _Eric_ ,” Charles intones. “Breathe. There's plenty of good in everyone if we can only persuade it out. People react badly when they're scared. They come around.”

Eric's lips twitch. “Are you trying to indoctrinate me again, Charles?”

The other mutant laughs throatily. “Is it working for once?”


	4. Chapter 4

After his talk with Eric, Charles talks with Hank then considers at length. The young mutants have been poorly treated and it is unsurprising that they show such a lack of trust. Had Floyd ( _Chief_ ) been less efficient at maintaining a blanket around the five, and had the sisters not been aggressive to their peer, Charles would likely have allowed them a freer range of the school's grounds. As it was, they were confined, and that would hardly show them that they were not, as Chief claimed to be, ' _prisoners_ '.

Charles sighs and massages his temples wearily. He knows the decision is the correct one but he has concerns about the wellbeing of the girl the others called _Dirty Blood_. He feels the need to ensure her safety but with the blanket surrounding her and the others Charles is honestly skeptical of his capability to do so. He cannot tell what she or the others are thinking or feeling.

So stripped of the abilities Charles has come to rely on he feels quite frail and uncertain. It has become so natural for him to be near all-knowing here in his school and his mutation has become not just a crutch but a lifeline. Quietly, to himself, Charles admits that this lack feels frightening, much in the way the loss of his legs' use had once been. Charles knows it is only five mutants he is powerless around, but the sensation has bite to it, and Charles cannot shake how uneasy it makes him.

It is not just a case of feeling blind in his own home. Charles' senses are raw: on a constant level of high alert. He worries these new young mutants may be of harm to others (or indeed themselves) and he feels much less equipped than usual to help.

There is also the matter of Eric of course.

Charles is still (and perhaps may always be) uncertain of the sensibility of having Eric here. Or having Eric close. Of having Eric at all.

But oh, how Charles craves the mutant.

Poor Eric has been terribly understanding of Charles' feelings, although an unkind part of Charles supposes Eric is on his best behaviour here for a reason. It's not as if Eric hasn't ever done anything distasteful that has not left the mutant careful around Charles for fear of causing further friction.

They are so different. Charles is so often known for being forgiven; he is teased and even chided for it. Even _Eric_ has on numerous occasions scolded Eric for being _too_ forgiving.

And yet Charles has misgivings about forgiveness when it comes to Eric. Charles has reached out to Eric again and again, it is true, and Eric has thought Charles a number of things for his 'forgiveness'.

Charles is not certain this supposed forgiveness does not come with strings or indeed even full appendixes.

Love is accepting, is it not? Charles is certain he loves Eric and has always loved Eric. So many times Charles has told himself and even others that this persisting love in the face of all their differences is what proves their love to be true.

And yet, if their love is so true, why does Charles feel so personally victimised by Eric's actions and beliefs?

Charles sighs and looks across the grounds. He feels grateful Eric is up in their bedroom giving him space to think, and part of Charles feels guilty at that: Eric is _trying_.

Charles is uncertain he can say the same about himself.

Certainly, he has welcomed Eric into his school, his home and his bed.

Into his confidence however? Charles is not certain of that.

What makes things worse is the presence of these new young mutants.

Survivors of conversion camps. Charles is lauded for his empathy but part of him (a shameful part of him) wishes the mutant teens were not his problem. Whether that means letting them scatter or never having rescued them in the first place, it is of little consequence to Charles compared to the sorrow he feels at letting Eric learn of them.

Of their suffering.

Eric is a grown man and a strong mutant but even he has scars that shall always remain raw and deep.

Charles knows Eric's relationship with the brutal inhumanity of war camps has not healed. So many of the mutant leader's motivations for defending his kind and fearing human integration can be followed right back to those cruelties.

It doesn't help that the Floyd boy has been chattering to Eric in Eric's mother tongue. Charles can see the impact that is having on Eric, even if Eric has not directly noticed the effect himself. Eric has been deeply reflective recently and the muted responses of the normally loudly argumentative and passionate mutant are a cause for Charles' honest concern.

Eric is also developing an emotional attachment to the Scottish teen. Of course he is. Surly and outspoken, this leader of mistreated young mutants with an attachment to Eric's first language cannot help but draw Eric's fondness.

The bullied Polish girl will not have helped matters. It will have exacerbated them for Eric in fact, Charles is certain. Double discrimination.

She refuses to talk to Hank. Seems quite fearful of everyone, truth be told.

She's pretty. From a photograph one might have expected the girl to be popular, with a friendly smile and warm touch.

She shies away from people and contact. She tugs constantly at her long sleeves and agitates at the suggestion of any contact.

The mutant does not simply seem fearful of people. Something in her eyes reminds Charles of Rouge. 

_Dirty blood_ , Charles ponders once more. There was little clear footage of what had happened to this girl at the conversion camp. Perhaps…

Perhaps there's more than just a slur there.

**Author's Note:**

> I've had a week of fainting, fever, and getting myself the mother of all concussions; it spawned this. 
> 
> I'm surprised to find that being smacked in the head with significant force brought back more of my German than I thought I remembered, but there are probably a few errors (especially grammatical). 
> 
> If absolutely none of this makes sense, well, I'm pretty sick. But write what you know, hey?


End file.
